


Enough of Tactics

by VenatorNoctis



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Pining, Pre-Canon, Shaving, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenatorNoctis/pseuds/VenatorNoctis
Summary: Livia helps her lord prepare for a diplomatic affair.She's very thirsty.
Relationships: Gaius van Baelsar/Livia sas Junius
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Ocean Witch, Battleship 2020 - Red Team





	Enough of Tactics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ocean_Purl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocean_Purl/gifts), [nan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nan/gifts).



The ship sways gently underfoot, the main stabilizers powered down now that they're at anchor over Radz-at-Han. It's not enough to be truly unsettling, just another small reminder of how far they've come from home. In the small stateroom allotted them, Livia opens her valise and lifts out the new himation she had fashioned for the occasion. In another year she'll have her own dress uniform to wear to affairs of state, but for now this will do: crisp white Ala Mhigan linen trimmed in Imperial scarlet, draping elegantly but leaving her arms bare to show off the strength she's been building in training. It's already an honor to be judged ready to accompany her lord for events like this.

She's stripped off her tunic and is reaching for the laces of her trousers when Gaius calls her name from the attached bathroom. For a moment she debates pulling her tunic back on, but she leaves it where it is. She doesn't mind if he sees her in her chemise, after all.

"My lord," she says as she steps into the doorway. She tries to keep her composure but it isn't easy: Gaius has just finished bathing, his skin still damp, stray drops of water diverted by the tracks of old battle scars as they run down his body. He has a towel wrapped around his hips and the cast still on his arm but nothing else, and it's excruciating to not let herself stare.

"Shaving with this damn thing on isn't going to work," he says, gesturing with the cast. "Your assistance?"

Livia has never been more grateful to rebel scum than she currently is to the fool who tried to attack Gaius with that hammer. If he weren't already dead, she might thank him before she killed him herself. "Of course, my lord."

He takes a seat on a little stool beside the sink, eyes closed, head tipped just slightly back. Livia's heart is pounding as she steps up beside him. She wills her hands to steady as she picks up the brush and pot of lather; if she can't handle this step, she's certainly not fit for the rest. Her knee presses against Gaius' thigh, a spot of heat that seeps into her veins.

She brushes the lather over his face, cheeks and jawline and chin, down over his bared throat, where she can see the steady beat of his pulse before she covers it with foam. It should look silly—if she imagines any other man in this position it's absurd—but he's still handsome even now. She glances down briefly and she can see an old purple scar running from one shoulder almost to the opposite nipple, and damnation she shouldn't be looking.

The razor swings open easily in her hand, a firm, pleasing weight, as she ponders where to start. She licks her lips. "Go ahead," Gaius murmurs, his lips almost unmoving. "Don't falter."

"Never," Livia promises. She leans close, reaches out, fingertips against his cheekbone as she drags the blade over skin. The lather comes away in a clean stripe, and where it's gone the skin beneath is damp and smooth. She makes a second stroke beside the first, trying to quiet her racing thoughts and simply perform the task in front of her.

Wipe the blade clean and continue. His jawline takes a series of short, careful strokes; the cheek on the other side seems almost easy after that, with no contours to worry about. But then she has to work around his _mouth_ , Radiance, the mouth she even sees in her dreams of late. She is as careful with the blade as she can be, scrupulously not allowing herself any unnecessary touches. Gaius has always valued discipline and she will not win him by displaying a lack of it.

He makes a low sigh as if in contentment and heat blossoms between Livia's thighs. She bites her lip to keep quiet as Gaius tips his head back further to expose his throat. It's a gesture as potent as kneeling and with far more actual risk and she can't imagine him offering this to anyone else they know. It's a show of vulnerability fit for an emperor (and one day he will _be_ emperor if she has a say in it).

She takes every stroke slowly as she applies the blade, tracing the contours of his throat, the soft places where blood pulses just below the skin, the rigid precious column of windpipe. Her heart is pounding. The smooth skin she bares has the deep glow of new bronze. She would press her lips to it if she dared, but this is not the time to make her move. He's taught her enough of tactics for her to know that.

When she's finished, she indulges enough to take a clean towel and wipe away the stray traces of lather even though he could do that himself. "There," she says as she inspects her handiwork, rather than _perfect_ or _I need you_ or anything else that comes to mind. "May I be of further assistance?"

Gaius opens his eyes and offers her a rare smile. "This is all for now." His gaze flickers down and Livia's cheeks heat pleasurably: he is seeing her, noticing her, in this state of undress. "I've interrupted your own preparations long enough. You should go get dressed."

Livia nods. "Yes, my lord." She steps out of the bathroom to leave him to his own preparations, and her heart feels so light in her chest. Perhaps not tonight, but the way he looked at her, the trust he offered her—one day soon, he will be hers.


End file.
